


viva la vida (never an honest word)

by lyricsandhearts



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricsandhearts/pseuds/lyricsandhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows that she isn't quite like everyone else. She wasn't raised to be like everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	viva la vida (never an honest word)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Viva la Vida by Coldplay.

i.  

Zenobia Farthington-Griffin dies when Mercedes is four years old.

She's been ill for the past year, but refuses to get treated, refuses even to find out what is wrong with her.   

("Why try?" she would always say. "I'm going to die someday anyway."

"But for Mercy," Arthur would reply, pleading, deserate, "what about Mercy? What about me?"

And every time, she would look at him with resolute sadness in her eyes.

"You're going to die someday, too.")   

Mercedes doesn't understand, can't understand where her mommy has gone, and _yeah, Daddy, but when does she get back?_ , and it breaks Arthur's heart more and more every day, so he gets his little girl the best nannies money can buy and buries himself in his work.

He never comes out of it.

ii.

Mercedes is raised on the finest foods, the finest education, and neverending affection. Nothing more, nothing less.

She starts Kindergarten early because Daddy says she's a prodigy, but gets held back because the teacher says she's "emotionally immature."

(Mercedes doesn't know what that means, but she doesn't like the sound of it, so she bites him. Daddy laughs and says, _that's my girl_ , and she goes to a different school after Christmas break.)

"Is this your mommy?" her pretty, blonde teacher asks quietly, smiling, when her nanny, Sylvia, shows up to the first parent-teacher conference.

Mercedes frowns and says, "No. She's my Sylvia."

The teacher looks taken aback.

"Your Sylvia?" she asks carefully, and Mercedes starts to get mad. Why doesn't the teacher understand? She's supposed to be smart.

"My _Sylvia_ ," she repeats slowly, in case the teacher doesn't get it.  "My daddy got her for me."

"I'm her nanny," Sylvia interrupts, grabbing Mercedes's hand to calm her down. 

"Oh," says the teacher, "Oh," and then she whispers something to Sylvia and Sylvia whispers back and Mercedes isn't being included, and why isn't she being included? So she starts to cry and then Sylvia is taking her out of the classroom and everybody is staring.

Good. Maybe now somebody will pay attention to her.

iii.

She understands exactly how the rest of her life is going to go when she's ten and all the other girls have parents in the audience at their ballet recital.

Even Sylvia can't make it for Mercedes.

When she asks Daddy if he's going to be there, he sighs.

"I'm sorry, pumpkin," he says as he grabs his briefcase and as Mercedes's heart falls, "I forgot all about it.  Maybe next time?" and she nods and tries to smile as he kisses her forehead.  "I'm sure you'll be the best, prettiest one there."

She most certainly _is_ the prettiest one, and she's positive that she gets the most applause.

When she gets home (Marianne Finch's mom drove her when she realized she didn't know _how_ she was supposed to get home), he asks how it went.

"I was the best, prettiest one there," she says softly.

"I'm sure you were," he says, grinning, and she tries so desperately to believe it.

iv.

Boys start to notice her when she's thirteen.

They whistle, catcall as she walks past.  She doesn't care (maybe even sort of likes it) because it means that someone is finally paying attention to her. She stops for a couple of them, perhaps let's them talk to her, kiss her, touch her, but it never means anything beyond the boys getting what they want and Mercedes getting what she wants.

And really - she _always_ gets what she wants, especially from boys.

They buy her things - everything she wants, they'll go running all over the world just to find it. Just so they can be with her. And it isn't like she _minds_ ; in fact, she grows quite accustomed to the process over time.  Boy sees Mercedes, boy wants Mercedes, boy does things for Mercedes, boy gets Mercedes, Mercedes finds new boy. She's so used to it that she wonders why anyone bothers with anything else.

However, sometimes, boys ask her on actual dates and they go out and have actual fun, at restaurants and at plays and on walks. They treat her nicely, and they're chivalrous, and then she wonders why anyone bothers with anything else.

Then she remembers who she is and what the procedure is, and goes back to her regular ways, demanding, taking, kissing. These nice boys are usually the ones who break up with her or are relieved when she finds someone else.  One boy - she can't remember his name but she'll never forget his face - actually tries to win her back. He tries and tries and nearly succeeds in winning her heart until she truly succumbs to the routine and fights him away. The last time she ever sees him, he keeps telling her how she's beautiful and he cares about her and why does she do this to herself?

"Do what?" she replies coldly, confused.

"Go from - from guy to guy. Like this. Like why you can't be with me," he sighs. "Why can't it just be you and me, without all the other guys, without all the _stuff_?"

Someone who doesn't want to buy her things. It shocks her into submission for a second.

"What's wrong with you?" she whispers finally, and he just shakes his head.

"What's wrong with _you_?"

He walks away.

v.

Maybe next time, sorry I missed it, I'm sure it was great, blah, blah, blah. It's a hurricane of excuses that never seems to really reach her ears, but it isn't like Mercedes isn't used to it (quite the opposite; she's actually getting pretty tired of it).  

She knows that she isn't quite like everyone else. She wasn't raised to be like everyone else. She wasn't raised by parents: she was raised by a stranger, a distant memory, someone who was never there. She was raised to be who she is.

A spoiled brat with a bad temper.

Sometimes she wonders what it would be like if her mother was alive (would she be more like her mother? She doesn't know what her mother was like, so for all she knows, she could be exactly like her already) or if her father had been able to _deal_ with it (she would certainly be a little more well-rounded, even she admits this to herself).  

But wondering has never done her much good anyway, so she keeps on living life the way she was brought up to live it.


End file.
